Chapter One
I loved to keep her tied up at night. It was so fun to listen to her tormented breathing as she tried to fall asleep, unsatisfied, aching, her clit so swollen I could almost pick it like a ripe strawberry. I was a sadistic bastard, but she was different. Sometimes giving her pleasure was almost as enjoyable as giving her pain; her orgasms were so intense, when I finally let her have one, that even in her sexual ecstasy, I could tell it was almost excruciating for her.
I had her wrists bound with rope that I then kept tied to the bed posts above her head, tautly, until she would calm down a bit. Then I would loosen the tautness so that she could draw her arms down when she finally succumbed to sleep. She was able to move her body to find a comfortable position, usually curled up on her side in a suffering, fetal position, arms closed in by her chest. I loved knowing that in the morning, as soon as she woke, I would have her at my mercy again, begging me to let her come, to use the bathroom, to be untied. I kept my box of goodies beside the bed. Tickling her, using a feather, was my favorite torture device in the morning. Watching her squirm and beg never got old for me.
As I watched her lying there, after I had teased her for over an hour, bringing her to the edge six or seven times, my satisfaction evident all over her tits and stomach, she bore a hole through me with her huge, brown eyes. They begged me, full of lust and longing, as her body heaved with pants, erratic breathing. Her breasts were so engorged, they almost looked silly. She was petite, slender, tiny, except for her breasts and ass. Her breasts were extremely large for her body, her waist that of a child's. She often talked about getting a breast reduction, but if she knew how turned on she made me, how much lust I felt for her because of them, she would have vanquished the thought from her mind.
After she had sucked me to orgasm, I had played with my cum across those beautiful tits as she continued to wriggle and squirm. Her nipples were so sensitive that just a few touches, especially if I touched them ever-so-lightly, soaked her pussy so thoroughly that I could keep her in a state of arousal pretty much whenever I wanted, which was a lot. And the poor thing loved me. And not only did I revel in torturing her body, but I reveled in torturing her mind. Mind games had always been a favorite of mine, but with Emily, it was becoming a necessity. Much to my disappointment, I was falling for her as well, and this was very new to me.
"Time for sleep, Emily," I teased, as I pushed her long, dark waves away from her damp face. I was sadistic, but I also didn't want to see her choking on her beautiful strands.
"Oh, Jonathan," she groaned. "Please."
"Good night, Emily." I closed my eyes and loosened the rope. I pretended to fall asleep, so she would be forced to give up.
Even when I was exhausted, I would force myself to stay awake, feigning sleep. I loved to hear her whimpers, feel her trembling, unfulfilled body next to mine. She didn't know this, but she almost always fell asleep before I did. Sometimes it would take her up to two hours before she could calm down, as I lie with my back to her, smiling, trying to hold in my laughter. Her thrashing would go on and on some nights, then she'd still and the moans and whimpers would start, and finally her breathing would come back, and she'd find fitful sleep. Only then could I really sleep, dreaming of playing with her all over again.
The weekends were my favorite, because I could keep her in bed with me for as long as I wanted. She was a college professor in their art department, and I owned my own computer business. No one, our friends, our coworkers, our family, no one knew about our sick and passionate love life. This we kept a great secret, which could also be really fun, especially in public when I had a vibrator taped inside of her that I controlled by remote.
When I woke the next morning, I watched her. God, she was beautiful, naked, tangled in her dark locks. Sometimes I let her sleep before I began my torture again. But it was difficult to lie there staring at the rise and fall of her breasts, and I was never good at holding off my own pleasure the way I forced her to do. I kneeled over her on the bed to tighten the rope so that her arms stretched far above her head, just slightly uncomfortable. She was on her side, arms stretched, and she started to move a bit, feeling the strain, as it forced her awake.
I got off the bed to get my favorite toys, some feathers, the paintbrushes I often used to tickle her clit and pussy lips. I needed to replace these items quite often, I used them so frequently. Tickling her was a great show for me to watch, especially when I tied her legs spread eagle as well, so helpless that her eyes would well up with tears almost immediately. Light teasing and tickles turned her on the most. It was so easy to get her to the edge. Many of the women I had been with took time to rile up, a slow build. Not Emily. One touch, just over her belly and she writhed. She made it too easy for me. A sadist's dream really.
As I could feel her gradually waking, I pulled the covers off her body. I loved the chilly morning air to torture her. Her nipples perked to attention, as her body began to realize its discomfort. I loved to watch her shiver, whether it was nature's fault or my own. Her unease was my pleasure. Goosebumps began to travel up her body, as she lied there completely naked, extended, helpless.
She opened her eyes slowly and immediately began to try to move her hands down to search for the covers, and then, just as quickly, realized her predicament. She found my smirking eyes immediately, and shivered at a heightened level.
She looked up to me with those doe eyes of hers (it took a lot of strength for me not to cave when I saw her like that) and trembled, asking "Is it cold in here?"
"I imagine it is," I replied, all too knowingly. Of course it was cold. It was in the dead of New England winter. I purposely hadn't turned back up the heat, and we had been under several blankets and a goose down comforter overnight. And I was fully clothed, while she lay there vulnerable and naked. I loved to watch her nipples become stiff and erect, playing with them like that was worse for her, and she and I both knew it. If the weather itself couldn't produce those shivers I liked to watch, ice cubes usually did the trick.
"Jonathan," she moaned, starting to struggle a bit more when she saw the feather I held in my hand.
I couldn't help it anymore, and I had to let out a chuckle. Maybe I was being a bit too cruel. I saw breath escape her lips, but I also knew that the pipes couldn't freeze; I did have it on 56. She'd be sweating soon enough anyway. My cock was already on its ascent, watching her like this. Any chance she may have had was now null and void. My penis and my brain were one in the same. The more misery she was in, the harder my cock. Simple fact.
I licked first one nipple then the other, extremely lightly. She tried to arch her back as her full breasts seemed to grow bigger, if that was even possible. I took her chin in my hands. "How'd you sleep?" I teased. "Did you have nice dreams?" I lightly stroked her chin, then her collarbone, working down through the valley of her tits, watching her eyes already glaze over with desire. I stopped so she could answer and waited.
"I did not sleep well," she admitted, and I continued with my light touches, driving her breathing to a distressed speed. So quick, so easy.
"No?" I taunted, tickling her lower belly, that almost painful erogenous zone for her. "How come?" I exaggerated the final word.
"Jonathan," she squeezed her legs. "Please."
"Hmmm," I was deciding whether to tie her legs apart to fully torture her, knowing soon she'd need to use the bathroom. I loved making her wait to piss. When I let her orgasm that way, it intensified it for her so much that she once told me she saw colors in her head. But today, I wasn't sure if I was going to let her come. At least not right away. I decided to keep her legs untied, for the time being, and instead fuck with her mind instead.
"Spread your legs for me, Emily." I knew she was hopeful. Sometimes I dove into her for a good, hearty fuck when I asked her to do that. Not just yet, but she didn't need to know that.
"Yes," she said, eyes wide, excited, begging, with that hope I was about to crush.
I pulled out the feather and I watched her tremble and try to take a huge breath. I loved watching her torment. My cock grew larger and larger the more she struggled. Not good for her. She couldn't control her reactions like some women I had been with. She tried, oh did she try, but she simply couldn't. She was a real passionate type, very emotional. What did I expect from an art teacher?
"Do not put your legs back together, Emily," I warned. She just closed her eyes and let out a shaky, long exhale, which made me smile so hard I almost started to laugh.
I tickled her with the feather, starting on her collarbone, but I stopped just to see if she was wet and ran a finger up her slit. She was more than wet, she was actually dripping. The sudden, unexpected touch of my finger made her start to close her legs to squeeze some pressure away.
"Naughty," I warned again. I thought I should let her go to the bathroom, so I could make this a tortuously long lesson. I knew right then I was definitely not going to let her come. This was way more fun, and once I had her suck my cock to pleasure, teasing her would be a breeze for me. Every time after I came, it took me at least an hour or two to get hard again. Lots of time to pleasure torture my little, squirming doe. She sensed her fate, because her breathing picked up unsteadily.
"Jonathan," she was already begging. "I have to use the bathroom."
"Not yet," I teased. There had been one time I went too far and she pissed herself. I had to get a new mattress, not cheap, and I didn't want a repeat of that, but I loved bringing her as close as I could to pissing herself. It took a lot of concentration on her part, especially if she had a throbbing clit, which was already well on its way to becoming painfully unpleasant. I continued, "God, Emily, I haven't even done anything yet."
I ignored her pleas, she could hold her piss for a while I had learned, and brought the feather down and around her nipples, never touching them, even though I wanted to. She wriggled under it and I continued, down the sides of her body, slowly, methodically, then down her belly around her belly button and right near the start of her pubic hair.
"Aaah!" she groaned, trying to arch her back up and squirmed to push her legs together.
"Emily, Emily, Emily," I tsked. "I am going to have to tie your legs down and you might end up pissing yourself. Is that what you really want?"
"No, no, it isn't, please Jonathan," she was becoming a little breathless. It was just crazy how easily I could get her going. What a long, painful day she had in store for her.
"Then calm down, spread your legs, and relax," I coaxed, knowing full well, my voice only deepened her longing. She was full-out shivering now, but perspiration was building up on her body.
I used the feather for about 20 minutes on her squirming body, forcing her to keep her legs spread. I tickled it down the outside and inside of legs, ignoring her pussy, back up to her stomach, lingering there until she actually screamed out, and then I relented a little, bringing the feather back up under her tits, around them, back up to her collarbone, and then did it all over again and again. I never once touched her nipples or her pussy in any way. I had more devious plans for those, and I smiled.
"Jonathan, please!!"
"Please what?" I sat right down on her pelvis and starting to tickle her under her arms. She couldn't move, though she tried, and I knew she was on the verge of pissing. I noticed a slight rash forming around her wrists, which almost made me feel bad for her, except my cock wouldn't let me. Later, I would pamper her. I loved that part, sexually tormenting her to no end, and then pampering her and taking loving care of her. It kept her in such a state of confusion. Mind fucking I called it, and I had a lot of it in store for her.
"Bathroom or . . . let me come?" The last part she said with such embarrassment, so shyly, I really wanted to cave. I wanted to see that orgasm she loved, the one that felt so good that it actually hurt, as she held back pissing everywhere. But the day was young, and I couldn't do it for her today. I was in too much of a sadistic mood to give her over to her pleasure just yet. She was so fucking sexy, so absolutely gorgeous; I needed to make her want to crawl into me. But I knew I still could get a few more minutes out of her before I let her go to the bathroom.
"Not yet," I said again, and rolled her onto her side. I had a hook above her head that I loved to use when she was on her side. I would tie one leg straight up to it, while she lay on her side, arms pulled tight above her head, the other leg still forced on the bed, under the weight of my leg. I would tickle her brutally this way, especially in and around her stomach and inner thighs, with both of my hands, mercilessly, brushing her pussy and clit occasionally.
It was so fun to do. Her nipples, so fucking sensitive, would also be tickled. One time, I did this to her for an entire football game that went into overtime. She was screaming out so fucking loud, I had to gag her. I told her if my team won, I would let her come, but if they didn't, I would leave her tied like that for the night. They won, and she lucked out, but I still kept her tied to my bed for the entire night, laughing at her the whole time. I loved lying to her like that. If I weren't so goddamn concerned about my mattress, I'd have done it right then.
She looked up at the ceiling and shuddered. I knew she knew I was thinking about it. I loved to keep her on edge, guessing what I might do to her next.
I let her legs stay though, for the time being, together, and I lightly stroked her pubic hair, touching the very tip of where her pussy started. Right underneath her clit waited, but she was getting no relief right then. "Stay still," I ordered, knowing she wouldn't be able to and that would seal her fate, and I wouldn't let her come.
"Please," she said, garbled, and I almost didn't even understand her.
I removed my hands from the top of her pussy V and went up to her nipples. She could come this way and had the few times I let her. Squeezing her legs together on her side while I fondled her nipples, delicately, painstakingly, she could find release. I decided to give her false hope.
I breathed into the back her neck, sending more chills through her body. "How do you like this?" I asked, lightly feathering her nipples with all my fingers on each hand, pulling them gently into peaks, stopping for a couple seconds, and then doing it again. I pushed my cock into her back harder, and I felt her legs tightening, muscles trying to release an orgasm.
"I like it very much," I could hear her lust and relief in her voice. I loved pulling the rug out from underneath her like that. She was so gullible and in many ways so sweet and innocent. Putty, really, in my hands.
"Good, I'm glad," I sounded sincere.
She moaned, and I continued, and again, if I weren't me, I would have actually felt bad, knowing I was about to shatter her hopes.
"Oh, Jonathan, yes," she purred. She was getting really close, and I needed to be careful. I needed to be sure I didn't accidentally make her come, so I stopped for a minute, and just kissed her neck, her shoulders, her back, and she whimpered.
Her breathing was erratic, so I waited for her to come down a bit, and then I started again. She was close, a little too close, and then I knew she was right there. "You wanna come, baby?" I asked again, complete duplicitous sincerity in my voice.
"Oh, yes, Jonathan, yes, thank you," I could feel her smile on the other side of me. Poor thing. I had put her in such a confused state, sometimes really letting her come, that she still trusted me to fulfill a promise.
"Yes," I breathed again, ensuring she was right there on the edge, trusting me, letting herself go. I really wanted to slam my cock in her dripping pussy, so I had some waiting to do myself, which was making me want to be crueler to her than usual. But I knew I would get my pleasure in just a bit. That I was certain of.
"Oh, yes!" And she tensed and I stopped, flipped her over, spread her legs brutally wide, and grabbed her face between my hands. I wished I had thought to get a bowl of ice cubes to cool her off. Next time, I reminded myself.
"Oh no you don't," I laughed, and she welled up. This part killed me. Her tears. I loved to watch them roll down her red, blotchy face. I stuffed my cock into her mouth, so she couldn't beg or guilt me. I had made the mistake once of that and she won out. She really was hard to resist. God it felt good, and I just smiled and groaned and knew it was going to take me mere seconds to come. I thrust it deep into her open mouth until I exploded, making her swallow every last drop, as she tried not to gag.
She whined as I untied her wrists. They were red, nothing that wouldn't disappear by work Monday. "Go pee," and I slapped her ass as hard as I could as she scooted away into the bathroom.
I thought about the rest of our morning, and the paintbrushes, and the new agony I would bring to her. I also knew that my timetable told me my mental fucking was supposed to shift into high gear today. Today was the day I would break up with her, and let her suffer without me for a few weeks. The only problem was that I actually didn't know if I could live without her. First time in my life. She was different, as I said. Beyond gorgeous (all my woman were, though no one had a body like hers), she was sweet, truly sweet. She was a kind soul and so fucking smart. She was a brilliant artist, so finely respected in her field. If they only knew! But they would never. We both cared too much about our professions.
But I had to go through with it. I liked how it made me feel, and I liked my women to suffer. So by the end of the day, I would give her a memorable orgasm, pamper the shit right out of her, and then break her heart . . . I would know it was temporary, but she wouldn't. I could almost feel my cock hardening under the thought of her mental stress.
She anxiously shut the light off in the bathroom and walked back over to the bed, tentatively. I had finally turned on the heat now. She was drying her eyes, and I wanted to console her a little bit, but no yet. Not my style.
"Come here," I said sweetly.
She sighed and pouted and stood in place, but I knew she wanted to come to me. Her eyes told me everything.
"Come here," I said again, playfully. "I will satisfy you by the end of the day, I promise." Of course my promises meant absolutely nothing, and the fact that she didn't get that was astonishing, considering how bright she was. It was her flaw though, her sweetness, she took people at face value, and it's what I loved about her. And I was realizing, much to my dislike, I did love her. It was new to me, and it seemed to make me want to torture her more.
She came over and snuggled in next to me, the sucker, and I stroked her hair and rubbed her wrists. She had fully calmed down, and I needed to get her to simmer again. Wouldn't take much, I knew, but I was starving. "Hungry?" I asked.
"Yes," she responded, eyes telling me the double meaning of her answer.
"Even after all that cum?" I joked.
Again, she just sighed, as I left her there on the bed.
I didn't really have to worry much about her touching herself. She wasn't into that, said it made her feel "dirty." So I left her there untied, for the time being. Soon I'd have her tied up, struggling again. I wanted to paint her body with food and dip fruit into her dripping, wet hole and make her eat it.
I came back with a tray of strawberries, bananas, yogurt, honey, and a bowl of a couple ice cubes. Her eyes widened. "Oh, Jonathan," she said and closed her eyes.
"Lie down, baby, on your back," I was seductive but stern.
She just moaned and did it.
I tied each wrist above her head to my bed posts and followed suit with her legs. She was a perfect X for me to do as I pleased. "Now, Emily, I want to satisfy you today, but there will be some rules," I smiled broadly.
She couldn't even respond, and I dipped my finger into her hole to find it soaked, already again. She whimpered when I withdrew my touch.
"So, first rule is keeping your moaning to a minimum," I sat on her pelvis to look deeply into her tortured eyes. "I will gag you if I have to. Do you understand?" I asked, starting to play with her nipples so her moaning would start, and I could legitimately punish her. She squirmed.
"Second rule is no squirming," I tried not to chuckle and failed. She was both moaning and squirming. "Emily, you are already breaking both rules," I warned. "And you will need to be punished for that."
"Jonathan, stop, please."
But I didn't. I continued to play with her erect nipples. She couldn't come like this without squeezing her legs, but when I turned my head to look between her thighs, literal streams of juices were flowing down between them. I knew how swollen she was down there, and I decided a good 10 minutes of this cruelty could get me hard again. Never mind she was moaning and squirming and needed to be punished for not following the rules.
When her face was so flushed that she couldn't breathe, I took a little pity on her and got up. Her chest heaved, as she panted and tears filled her eyes. "You hungry?" I asked.
She didn't respond, trying to find her breathing. I began to tickle her clit, only teasing her, not putting nearly enough pressure on it to get her to cum. This got her to thrash so much, I knew I had to stop for fear the restraints would leave too deep of marks, though I loved watching her suffering so much, I thought I might have to jack off to continue. Somehow I controlled myself.
I got up to get the yogurt and paintbrushes. I began first with her swollen clit because she was so close to coming that the cold yogurt would stop it a bit. I slathered it with my hands, all over her pussy and then took a small paintbrush and began tickling her clit with it, covering the swollen nub in the vanilla cream. She writhed. "Please, Jonathan, please!"
I left the yogurt there and stopped touching her. "You are squirming, Emily. You're moaning. And you're breaking my rules, which mean you will not get to come." I couldn't help it. I loved torturing her. I couldn't get enough of it.
She really started to sob now, so I took a break. But before I did, I took an ice cube and played with it around her nipples. I took another ice cube with my other hand and stuck up her pussy and just held it there, as she wriggled like a suffering worm. I would not allow the cube to come out, and with the other hand, I continued to rub the ice cube around her nipples, finally stopping to hold it first on one nipple and then the other. She was begging, really loud, and I was starting to get worried she might actually pass out, her breathing was so frenetic, her wails deep, so after about 5 or so full more minutes, I granted her wish and removed the frozen torture device from her nipples and let the ice cube slip out of her.
I lied next to her trembling body, not touching her at all as she struggled. A part of me thought that maybe I should quickly lick her up, play with my cock and cum all over her, and then leave her there for a few hours, I was so fucking hard. Listening to her pleas, so loud and passionate, made my cock swell and pulsate. So I warned her. "If you can't calm down, Emily, you will force me to leave you here, alone."
She shuddered, and I could hear her counting in her head as she breathed in and out, in counts of five. I didn't console or touch her. She didn't want to be left alone. She hated that, and I did it a lot to her when she was in this frenzied state of wriggling and blubbering.
After about 10 minutes, her sobs stopped, leaving her with just her unsteady breathing. With that, I licked all around her pussy, purposely ignoring her clit, and she really tried not to moan or move. I probably should have rewarded her for that, but I only did so verbally. "Good job, Emily."
She smiled and said, "Thank you. Please, Jonathan."
Once all the yogurt was cleared from around her pussy lips and hole, I took some honey up with the paintbrush and painted little circles around and on her clit. She bucked, trying to push her pussy into the air onto the brush harder, as the feather light touches of the brush drove her insane. She literally started screaming and shrieking at that point, as the paintbrush was only tickling her, not allowing any chance for an orgasm. So, being the cruel bastard I was, I had to stop.
"No!!" She literally screamed so loud, I knew I had to punish her again.
"Bad girl!" I yelled back at her and slapped her pussy, hard, as tears streamed down her face again. I began to lap up the rest of the sticky honey, which was no easy task, being careful not to let her come. She was so close; one wrong flick of my tongue and she would go over the edge. Successfully cleaning her, without tipping her over, I got out the fruit.
She was begging me uncontrollably at this point, which made me feel a little bad, and I couldn't have that, so I said, "I'll be right back."
I came back with a ball gag and immediately stuffed it in her mouth. The harder my cock, the more depraved I became. Her widening eyes dripped, as her muffled cries begged me to stop. When I would break up with her later, I would imply that it was because she couldn't behave. I couldn't wait for that bomb to drop.
Properly gagged, I began to dip the fruit into her pussy juices and place them back on the tray. One strawberry, dipped, placed back, and then a lick on her nipple. Next, piece of banana, dipped, and a lick on her other nipple. And so I went, listening to her muffle moans and watching her struggle. The girl could not keep still, no matter what the consequence.
"Now, Emily, when all the fruit is properly prepared, you will eat all of it, every last bite. Do you understand?"
She nodded and I decided to be a little more sadistic. "Excuse me? I couldn't hear you. Do you understand?"
Of course she couldn't respond. She was gagged, so I used it to my advantage to punish her again. Her cries were so high-pitched, that even with the gag she was loud.
I wasn't a whip and chains kind of sadist. I didn't like to mark my women. I only liked to torture them sexually. Maybe I was a bit of a wimp in that regard, but blood and markings didn't do it for me. My torture was much more mental.
I sat down on her and grabbed the yogurt and slathered her huge tits. Then I pinched her nipples and held them there. "Cat got your tongue? You going to answer me?" I lost it. I had to laugh. I just couldn't help it, the absurdity of what I was doing to her, the cruelty of it. She couldn't answer me if she tried, and it was hilarious.
I held her nipples tightly, as hard as the yogurt would allow and didn't let go. Man, she was squirming. "I guess you don't want me to let go. I guess you like your nipples to be pinched like this or you would answer me. So naughty," I teased.
I tried to pinch as hard as I could, as the yogurt became more sticky than slippery. I had a good handle on my little squirmer under me. "Maybe I need to get the nipple clamps. Maybe that would get you to answer me." She hated those with a passion, her nipple were just so sensitive, which of course made me like them ever more, but I wasn't going to use them today. I just wanted her to think about it in her tortured mind.
I then released the swollen little things, and licked them lightly with my tongue and sucked with my mouth, using my hands to tickle her body. I tickled her stomach in her that special place and even with the restraints, I felt like I was riding a small horse, she was bucking so emphatically. I didn't relent. Too much fun to relent. I tickled and tickled, moving from stomach to under her arms, as I licked and sucked her nipples. Her face was drenched in tears, so red, and sometimes the tickles betrayed her with giggles through the sobs. I worried she might explode, and yet it only encouraged my wickedness.
"Emily, if you refuse to answer me, you will give me no choice but to continue relentlessly. Your choice," and I laughed, really deeply, as I saw something that almost looked like terror in her eyes.
I knew I would need to stop, the poor helpless, tormented thing. One last squeeze on her nipples, harshly, tightly. A nice twist for good measure.
"You think you can behave if I remove the gag, Emily?"
She shook her head up and down furiously, like a bobble head, which again, just made me laugh to see her desperation.
"Okay. Time to eat." I pinched her nose together so she couldn't breathe for a minute and warned her. "No moaning of any kind, Emily when I remove this gag." And I kept her nose pinched while I undid the gag. She gasped and flailed, inhaling the air I finally gave back to her. "And no begging," I warned and kissed her delicately, lovingly, to confuse her again. Harsh and sweet. That's how I liked to control her.
"Okay. Okay, Jonathan. I promise. Please!" She panted and was really crying again now, and I did feel bad, but loved to confuse her emotions. Even though we both knew that she couldn't have obeyed if she had wanted to, I still wanted her to feel like somehow she had failed, let me down. I loved to play games like that with her.
"Sssh," I said sweetly. "It's okay," I soothed her like I would a child. "But you need to learn to behave."
She controlled her breathing and stopped crying, as I fed her the pussy juice-covered fruit. I hadn't let her eat last night, so I was sure she was famished, even if I forced her to eat herself essentially.
I spoon fed her some yogurt after she had eaten all of the fruit, without complaint I might add, which surprised me. She must have been really hungry. I had read somewhere that sexual arousal was heightened when the body wasn't overfed, so I liked to keep her hungry, no pun intended!
Plus, a couple women I dated had gotten fat after we hooked up. Emily's curves were in all the right places; I wanted to make sure she stayed that way. And I had a metabolism that was off the charts. I could pretty much eat anything I wanted and never gain a pound. Never mind I worked out every day. Last night I had eaten pizza right in front of her, while she got a glass of wine and that was it. Of course, I made sure she drank lots of water too, so our morning would be more fun!
And the weird part was that she let me. I mean, I wouldn't be able to do this shit to her if she didn't like it somehow. It drove her crazy; she always felt guilty. I loved watching her struggle to accept that she liked this kind of treatment, the guilt smothering her at times. It was the orgasms she got from me. I could torture her for days and she tolerated it, because her orgasms made it all worthwhile. Hell. I was not the kidnapping or rapist type. I wanted my squirming, helpless women willing. And much to her embarrassment, she was more than willing. Her dripping pussy always betrayed her words.
I'll never forget that first time I let her come. She was never the same after that. I had her right where I wanted her, and she loved and hated it. That's when I began the real mind fucks. I'd tease her at work, put ridiculous requests upon her, all in the name of letting her come eventually. It was sick. And I loved it.
The only problem was that I liked her too, on an intellectual level. When I wasn't sexually tormenting her, we actually really liked each other's company. We went to art galleries together, movies, dinner . . . regular dates. We never tired of talking to each other. She was the first woman I didn't tire of after a couple months. We had been dating now for well over 6 months. And I was supposed to have broken up with her months ago.
I let her digest, watching the rise and fall of her chest and decided to go all tender on her for a bit. I kissed her mouth. Her lips were exceptionally plump, always a scarlet red, and she never wore lipstick. She was just simply a natural beauty. I stroked her cheek, and I actually thought I heard her purr. I stopped kissing her and looked into those big, watery eyes of hers. "Do you want me to fuck you, Emily? Or would you rather I let you come with my tongue and fingers?"
Her eyes almost rolled into the back of her head as she let the idea of sweet release wash over her. She breathed, cautiously, she knew I was a teasing bastard, "Don't tease me anymore, please Jonathan." Her voice cracked. She wasn't going to be able to handle much more without really going into a state of insanity, and I knew this from experience.
One time I teased her for so long that her sobs turned into convulsions, uncontrollable. I came all over her during it; it had turned me on so much to watch her in that state. It was like she wasn't even aware of her own body in those moments. When I finally tipped her over the edge (it literally took one touch on her clit, that's how brutally close I had kept her), it sounded like someone was stabbing her, she was squealing so fucking loud. It actually worried me. I thought the cops might come in to arrest me.
I had gotten a hotel room for that weekend. I must have come 6 or 7 times during that time, and that may be a low estimate. She came once. That was all I allowed her. It was one of my favorite memories to date. After, she had told me that she thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown if I hadn't finally let her come. That was the meanest I ever was to her. I was testing her limits. And I was hoping to do it again real soon. And I would after the break up. But this day was not the day.
My cock was throbbing, and I wanted to feel her hot pussy, so it was in that moment that I knew I was going to finally let her come. It would be good, anyway, to have the rest of the day to pamper her and mind fuck her in the best possible way.
I continued to stroke her cheek, whispering softly in her ear. "Sssh, my lovely Emily."
She closed her eyes and moaned, letting my soothing voice relax her and then quickly opened her eyes, fear flooding them. She had moaned, and she panicked that I would punish her. I should have, but my cock needed satiation and we needed to get the day under way.
I stopped touching her to let her ride out her fear. I felt her body tremble a bit. I could thrust my cock down her throat and fulfill my need. I should have. She deserved it, relaxing like that under my insincere words of encouragement, so I toyed with her, as I debated in my mind what course of action to take. It would be fun to leave her there, tied to my bed for another hour or two.
"Emily?" I questioned, sarcastic teasing lacing my voice. She once told me that it was this voice that scared her the most. She never knew which way I would go. Sometimes I would let my sadistic nature just completely take over, but many times I had also given in to her. It was this uncertainty that kept her nerves on end.
She breathed heavily. "Yes?" She tried to seem calm, but her quivering body and quickened breathing gave her away.
"Did you just moan?" I tried to sound angrier.
She started to cry, again. And she was lucky I actually cared for her. And she was even luckier that my cock wanted her pussy and nothing else.
I slammed into her spread legs and stopped to look into her eyes, holding my cock's head mere centimeters from her dripping pussy. I was going to blow my load fast, so I did this as much to tease her as to control myself. "Do you think you deserve this?" I continued to toy with her. She was no stranger to me doing this to her. I'd slam into her a few times to release my need but then I'd play with my cock to its full pleasure, leaving her there still full of lust and want, only getting a small taste of what she could have.
"Yes. I do. Please, Jonathan. Please!" she pleaded.
"Okay," I teased. "I will let you have it. Can you try to be quiet?" I knew she couldn't. She knew she couldn't, and I saw her begging eyes, and I laughed. I rolled over on my side and began to lightly stroke her clit.
"Yes," she begged.
"You like this?" I stopped.
"Yes, please!"
I continued and stopped and then placed my cock between her legs again and slammed it in hard and fast. She was yelling now. "Yes, Jonathan, yes. Please don't stop, please! I'll do anything!" And I knew she would, as I smiled up into her eyes and stopped.
I untied her and flipped her over quickly. "Hands and knees," I ordered. "And no moving or I will not allow you to come. Do you understand what I'm saying?" And I said it in my most intimidating voice, grabbing her tiny waist to pull her ass back against my cock.
"Yes, Jonathan. Yes. I understand," she struggled to answer because I was tickling her waist. She was laugh crying, she was so fucking ticklish, but she wasn't moving much. She wanted this like her life depended on it.
I stopped tickling her waist and positioned the head of my cock against her pussy lips. With one hand I began to tickle her anus, which I knew she hated to admit she loved, and then I lightly brushed her clit, all the while keeping my cock just at the opening of her sopping wet hole. I knew it was taking every ounce of energy she had to stay still. I didn't relent, because I actually wanted her to move, so that I could deny her, or at least make her think I was going to deny her. But I wasn't. I knew I was going to let her explode in only a few minutes.
She stayed still for about 3 full minutes, which in real time seems like nothing, but in sexual time is an eternity. I was actually proud of her. But when I removed my fingers from both her anus and clit, her breathing became erratic. I knew she'd be squirming in about 5 -- 4- 3- 2- 1, and there it was. She was writhing, trying to push my cock into her pussy, but I was strong. I was 6' 2", had the body of a football player, and holding my tiny thing in place took no energy at all on my part. She was really using all her force, her breathing shallow, unhealthy really.
"No! Please! Jonathan!"
And I let her have it. She came fairly easily from behind with no other stimulation, and she exploded on my cock within three thrusts. She screamed my name and told me she loved me and her muscles tightened and contracted over and over on my cock. Her body shuddered and I pulled out and spewed cum all in her hair and just above her ass. I had been pulling her long, chestnut hair, hard, like the reigns of a horse, and now my cum glistened in it. I couldn't wait to wash it out for her, to soothe her in a hot tub, to make her a wonderful dinner, to kiss her.
She loved the after care. And I liked it more than I cared to admit. But today was different, and she wouldn't be going home happy and in love. Today, she would be going home, gripping her stomach in pain and turmoil, with our break up. I had just come all over her, and my cock could already feel its new arousal. I was a sick and twisted bastard.
She curled up on her side and I lied down behind her, scooping her trembling body into mine as I stroked her head, like a puppy. Her breathing was slowing and her trembling was waning, as I soothed her in her ears. "Sssh," I kept repeating.
I usually told her I loved her, because I actually did, but today, I needed to start the set up to the break up. I could tell she wanted to hear it, as she shimmied around to face me. She held my face and looked longingly into my eyes and kept repeating, "I love you, Jonathan, I love you." I never tired of hearing her desperate whispers, her tormented confessions of how much she felt for me. "My emotions scare me, Jonathan. What you do to me scares me."
Usually, I would soothe her and tell her that she had nothing to fear, that I loved her too, that these emotions were felt by me too, but again, not today. I knew how mean I was about to be to her, and yet I couldn't stop it. It was this deep need of mine. The thought of her sadness without me, almost got me hard again, and the thought of how emotionally bare she would be when I took her back, when I touched her again that first time after so many weeks, made me grin so wickedly, I almost started to laugh, but I controlled it.
"Come. Let me wash you up," and I kissed her, leaving her eyes searching mine, a bit of fright behind them. I knew she was worried. And I loved it.
I ran the water in the tub. I looked back to the bedroom and she was rocking, a sure sign of her unease. My poor, poor thing. What I was about to do to her. But first, I would be gentle, kind, tender, but I would stay a little aloof, building her concern, her fear. She had once told me that she didn't know what she would do if we broke up. I hadn't consoled her then, and watched her shake, knowing full well that I would break up with her someday, if only temporarily.
If I was honest with myself, I wanted this woman to be mine, pretty much forever. This temporary break up was just a control thing of mine. Worked like a charm every time. But this was the first time that I knew I'd be testing myself as well. Would I be able to stay away from touching her perfect, beautiful skin, her hair, her ass, her tits? Even her full lips? This woman was a real specimen. It was so easy to jack off thinking of her, and that would hopefully get me through. It was not going to be easy. I would probably have to fuck a few retreads, picturing her as I fucked their brains out.
"Come in here," I soothed. Again, she shot me a timid glance. I really did feel bad for her. Her tiny body moved itself along shyly, slowly. She always felt embarrassed naked, even though she had just been naked on my bed for hours, never mind tied naked to it last night. "In the tub you go," I ordered sweetly.
She stepped in, and then I stepped in behind her and sat down. I kissed her head and rubbed her shoulders, and I felt her tension leaving her body, if not begrudgingly. I knew she felt something was not quite right. I wasn't telling her I loved her, and I knew that worried her. I knew I could get her wet and hot again if I wanted to right then. And I could sense that even though she was relaxing, she wasn't truly able to. I had allowed her to come several times in the tub after some of our sessions with nipple and clit stimulation. That girl could pretty much have as many orgasms as I wanted her to have. I wasn't going to do that today. Though it was very tempting, it wouldn't make sense when I broke up with her over dinner.
She turned to face me, her eyes so full of emotion; I honestly thought I might have to look away. She wasn't going to derail me this time. I had pussied out of breaking up with her a couple times before. Even as my cock began to perk up, I pushed the urge down to please her. Her eyes willed me to talk to her, and I think I saw her battling herself not to cry, so endearing, but I turned her back around and just said, "Sssh," knowing it wouldn't be enough for her. I also knew her well enough to know that her pride wouldn't allow her to ask me if I loved her; if she had, I would have had to break up with her right then.
I washed her back, kissed her ears and neck, knowing I was arousing her a bit, but I didn't want to overdo it. Her squirms and moans always got me hard. I did want to touch her pussy a little more and her huge tits that couldn't stay under the water. They floated above the surface like inflated balloons, too huge for anybody's own good. I took the washcloth and washed between her legs, moving up her thighs, and then lightly brushing her pussy with the cloth. I went up to her tits and it took all my will power not to tug and pull on her nipples, still swollen from all the persecution they had endured.
She moaned and my cock hardened, as I knew it would, so I stopped all contact and began to drain the water. Again, she turned to me, consternation in her eyes, but I said nothing. This build up was going very well, and she was going to be crushed. I couldn't wait to see how she would react. If she'd beg, cry, scream. Time would tell.
I gently dried her off with a towel and sat her on the stool. I loved to dry her hair for her. She told me it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her. A sadistic romantic! There was an oxymoron for you!
When I finished drying her hair, I decided to turn the aloofness up a notch, really get her uncomfortable and worrying. "I'm going to go workout," and I kissed her chastely. I saw that fear flash in her eyes again. "I have some other things to do as well. I'll be back in time for dinner." And then I left her there. I couldn't stop laughing as I drove to the gym, thinking of how crestfallen she looked when I left. If I had only been able to take a picture of that face in that moment, it would have brought me intense, twisted orgasms.
When I returned, she was curled up on the couch, watching some silly romantic comedy you could almost always find on TV on Sunday and looked up to me for reassurance, something comforting. She wasn't going to get it. Coldly I said, "I'll make dinner, and then I'll drive you home." I heard her draw in a stunned inhale, as if wanting to speak, but then chickening out, as I went into the kitchen to fix dinner.
Believe it or not, I loved to cook, and I loved to control what my women ate even more, in what order, how much, etc. I loved to tie their hands behind their backs as I fed them. More often than not, they'd be eating and swallowing my cum before they even got one morsel of food in them.
Emily was no stranger to this. I'm sure her pretty, little, overactive mind was wondering right then if I would torture her that way. Let's face it: I had stopped to have a hearty lunch, and my poor doe had had some fruit and yogurt. She never even thought about rummaging through my kitchen for food. She once told me that without my express permission, she wouldn't even think of invading my cabinets. She had real manners this one, ethics.
Tonight, though, I would torture her in a far more sadistic way. I would ignore her, and I would let her get her own portion, and feed herself. She would be squirming for a totally different reason. "Dinner's ready!" I called.
She loved seafood, and I made a delicious seafood pasta dish, bathed in butter and garlic. She must have been starving. I had licked buttery meals off her body a hundred times, and I knew she was craving that right now. I brought the bowl of pasta to the table and said blankly, "Help yourself," and I could see trepidation and hesitation in her eyes. I knew she was about to bawl her eyes out. Soon. I thought. Very soon.
I ate heartily, not bothering to talk to her, and I could see how hard it was for her to swallow her food, when she should have been scoffing it like an animal. She finally spoke. "Jonathan? What's wrong? You're scaring me."
Here it was. No turning back. "Emily," I spoke slowly, like it was paining me to speak. "I think it's time we go our separate ways."
God I didn't expect her to start crying right then. But she lost it. I mean full-out sobbing, heaving, and convulsions. She couldn't talk. She couldn't even get out one word, and honestly, I almost just starting laughing. It was so real, so visceral for her; she started to choke a little on her tears. "I don't feel good," she said and ran into the bathroom we had just sat in together.
I heard her wrenching up the little food she had just managed to get down and ran into the living room for fear I would laugh uncontrollably. I was a sick fuck. I knew it. My cock was hard as a rock watching her in this pain, and I almost wanted to fuck her one last time to really fuck with her mind. I was not leaving it off the table entirely.
She came back from the bathroom, and I had already repositioned myself at the table. She looked into my eyes, and then I saw something I couldn't believe, anger. "Are you fucking laughing at me, you sick bastard?"
Oh shit! Could she see the smile behind my eyes? I knew I wasn't outwardly smiling. I acted appalled, angry. "What? You can't be serious?"
And just like that, I had her again. Bawling her eyes out, all traces of anger replaced with anguish. She looked up again, "Why are you doing this? What happened? Please don't do this. Tell me what . . . " she attempted to talk, unsuccessfully.
"Emily, it's just time. I'm sorry. Let me take you home." I didn't want to give her much closure; her torment over the next couple weeks would be delicious. Plus, there was no reason. What was I going to say? I'm just fucking with you? I like to watch you suffer?
I got up, grabbed her things and my keys, and waited for her in the car, humming a tune that always put me in a good mood.
She came into the car, her face so swollen from tears, I almost wanted to kiss them and stop this for her, almost, but not enough to make me do it. I started up the car immediately. I wasn't an actor, so the sooner I got her home, the sooner I could start the vicious torment for duration of our break up.
I envisioned the game playing out something like this. First I would start by no contact at all; then I would stake out where she'd be occasionally and let her see me with another girl, and then I'd start to leave her caring messages, make her think of me, ask her out for dinner just to check on her, teasing her sexually in a way that she wouldn't know was on purpose, and then somehow, I'd get her to come to my house, begging, and I'd tie her up, torture her mercilessly, give her earth-shattering orgasms, and let her back into my life. I simply couldn't wait. Oh the glory of the mind fuck!
She grabbed my hand and pleaded. "Jonathan. Please. I don't understand. I'm sick. Please. Tell me what happened. Please," she was trying so hard not to cry. Her whole body quaked beside me.
"There are too many things. I just don't think you can handle me, Emily." I wanted to guilt her.
"I love you, Jonathan, please. What do you mean? My moaning? My squirming? Is that what you mean? That I can't follow your requests?" I could feel her guilt kicking in; her voice was shaking and getting high.
"Emily. No more. It's just time," and I just let her cry beside me, without consoling her at all, quivering.
She wouldn't get out of the car, and I found it amusing. "I can't do this," she whispered.
So, being the gentlemen I was, I got out, went over to the side of her door, opened it, pulled her out, shut the door, and stood next to her. I grabbed her head, stuck my tongue down her throat, released her panting, got into my side of the car, and left her there.
I finally let out my laugh as I peeled away down the road. I didn't even look back. I couldn't wait for the next two weeks . . . and I particularly couldn't wait to have her back in my bed, under my thumb, for years to come.
